Monday, December 31, 2007


My Wish for You in 2008

May peace break into your house and may thieves come to steal your debts. May the pockets of your jeans become a magnet of $100 bills. May love stick to your face like Vaseline and may laughter assault your lips! May your clothes smell of success like smoking tires and may happiness slap you across the face and may your tears be that of joy. May the problems you had forget your home address! In simple words ............

May 2008 be the best year of your life!!! Until 2009, 2010, 2011..

Saturday, December 8, 2007


To all my Keepers!!!!!!! 
Their marriage was good, their dreams focused.
Their best friends lived barely a wave away.
I can see them now, Dad in trousers, tee shirt and a hat and Mom in a
house dress, lawn mower in one hand, and dish-towel in the other.

It was the time for fixing things. A curtain rod, the kitchen radio,
door, the oven door, the hem in a dress.
Things we keep.

It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy.


All that re-fixing, eating, renewing, I wanted just once to be wasteful.
Waste meant affluence.

Throwing things away meant you knew there'd always be more.
But then my mother died, and on that clear summer's night, in the warmth
the hospital room, I was struc k with the pain of learning that sometimes
there isn't any more.

Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away...never


While we have it... it's best we love it... And care for it.... And fix it
when it's broken..... And heal it when it's sick.
This is true... For marriage.... And old cars.... And children with bad
report cards..... Dogs and cats with bad hips.... And aging parents....
We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it. Some
we keep.

Like a best friend that moved away or a classmate we grew up with.
There are just some things that make life important, like people we know
are special.... And so, we keep them close!

Saturday, October 27, 2007


The Hugging Judge

By Jack Canfield and Mark V. Hansen

Lee Shapiro is a retired judge. He is also one of the most genuinely loving people we know. At one point in his career, Lee realized that love is the greatest power there is. As a result, Lee became a hugger. He began offering everybody a hug. His colleagues dubbed him “the hugging judge” (as opposed to the hanging judge, we suppose). The bumper sticker on his car reads, “Don’t bug me! Hug me!”

About six years ago Lee created what he calls his Hugger Kit. On the outside it reads “A heart for a hug.” The inside contains thirty little red embroidered hearts with stickums on the back. Lee will take out his Hugger Kit, go around to people and offer them a little red heart in exchange for a hug.

Lee has become so well known for this that he is often invited to keynote conferences and conventions, where he shares his message of unconditional love. At a conference in San Francisco, the local news media challenged him by saying, “It is easy to give out hugs here in the conference to people who self-selected to be here. But this would never work in the real world.”

They challenged Lee to give away some hugs on the streets of San Francisco. Followed by a television crew from the local news station, Lee went out onto the street. First he approached a woman walking by. “Hi, I’m Lee Shapiro, the hugging judge. I’m giving out these hearts in exchange for a hug.” “Sure,” she replied. “Too easy,” challenged the local commentator. Lee looked around. He saw a meter maid who was being given a hard time by the owner of a BMW to whom she was giving a ticket. He marched up to her, camera crew in tow, and said, “You look like you could use a hug. I’m the hugging judge and I’m offering you one.” She accepted.

The television commentator threw down one final challenge. “Look, here comes a bus. San Francisco bus drivers are the toughest, crabbiest, meanest people in the whole town. Let’s see you get him to hug you.” Lee took the challenge.

As the bus pulled up to the curb, Lee said, “Hi, I’m Lee Shapiro, the hugging judge.  This has got to be one of the most stressful jobs in the whole world.  I’m offering hugs to people today to lighten the load a little.  Would you like one?”  The six-foot-two, 230-pound bus driver got out of his seat, stepped down and said, “Why not?”

Lee hugged him, gave him a heart and waved good-bye as the bus pulled out.  The TV crew was speechless.  Finally, the commentator said, “I have to admit, I’m very impressed.”

One day Lee’s friend Nancy Johnston showed up on his doorstep.  Nancy is a professional clown and she was wearing her clown costume, makeup and all.  “Lee, grab a bunch of your Hugger Kits and let’s go out to the home for the disabled.”

When they arrived at the home, they started giving out balloon hats, hearts and hugs to the patients.  Lee was uncomfortable.  He had never before hugged people who were terminally ill, severely retarded or quadriplegic.  It was definitely a stretch.  But after a while it became easier, with Nancy and Lee acquiring an entourage of doctors, nurses and orderlies who followed them from ward to ward.

After several hours they entered the last ward.  These were 34 of the worst cases Lee had seen in his life.  The feeling was so grim it took his heart away.  But out of their commitment to share their love and to make a difference, Nancy and Lee started working their way around the room followed by the entourage of medical staff, all of whom by now had hearts on their collars and balloon hats on their heads.

Finally, Lee came to the last person, Leonard.  Leonard was wearing a big white bib which he was drooling on.  Lee looked at Leonard dribbling onto his bib and said, “Let’s go, Nancy.  There’s no way we can get through to this person.”  Nancy replied, “C’mon, Lee.  He’s a fellow human being, too, isn’t he?”  Then she placed a funny balloon hat on his head.  Lee took one of his little red hearts and placed it on Leonard’s bib.  He took a deep breath, leaned down and gave Leonard a hug.

All of a sudden Leonard began to squeal, “Eeeeehh! Eeeeeehh!”  Some of the other patients in the room began to clang things together.  Lee turned to the staff for some sort of explanation only to find that every doctor, nurse and orderly was crying.  Lee asked the head nurse, “What’s going on?”

Lee will never forget what she said: “This is the first time in 23 years we’ve ever seen Leonard smile.”

How simple it is to make a difference in the lives of others.

Friday, October 12, 2007


Damaged Goods

By Joanna Slan

The dust mites danced in the ray of sunshine that provided the only light in the rabbi’s office.  He rocked back in his office chair and sighed as he stroked his beard.  Then he took his wire-rimmed glasses and polished them absent-mindedly on his flannel shirt.

“So,” he said, “you were divorced.  Now you want to marry this good Jewish boy.  What’s the problem?”

He nestled his grizzled chin in his hand and smiled softly at me.

I wanted to shriek.  What’s the problem?  First of all, I’m Christian.  Second, I’m older than he is.  Third - and not least, by any means - I’m divorced!  Instead, I looked back into his soft brown eyes and tried to form the words.

“Don’t you think,” I stuttered, “that being divorced is like being used?  Like being damaged goods?”

He settled back in the office chair and stretched so that he was looking at the ceiling.  He stroked the scraggly beard that covered his chin and his neck.  Then, he returned to his spot behind the desk and leaned toward me.

“Say you have to have surgery.  Say you have a choice between two doctors.  Who are you going to choose?  The one right out of medical school or the one with experience?”

“The one with experience,” I said.

His face crinkled into a grin.  “I would, too,” he locked his eyes with mine.  “So in this marriage, you will be the one with experience.  That’s not such a bad thing, you know.

“Often, marriages tend to drift.  They get caught in dangerous currents.  They get off course and head toward hidden sandbars.  No one notices until it is too late.  On your face, I see the pain of a marriage gone bad.  You will notice the drift in this marriage.  You’ll call out when you see the rocks.  You’ll yell to watch out and pay attention.  You’ll be the person with experience,” he sighed.  “And believe me, that’s not such a bad thing.  Not bad at all.”

He walked to the window and peeked between the slats of the blinds.  “You see, no one here knows about my first wife.  I don’t hide it, but I don’t make a big deal about it.  She died early in our marriage before I moved here.  Now, late at night I think of all the words I never said.  I think of all the chances I let pass by in that first marriage, and I believe I’m a better husband to my wife today because of the woman I lost.”

For the first time, the sadness in his eyes had meaning.  Now I understood why I chose to come talk to this man about marriage instead of taking an easier route and getting married outside both our religions.  The word “rabbi” means teacher.  Somehow I sensed he could teach me, or even lend me, the courage I needed in order to try again, to marry again and to love again.

“I will marry you and your David,” said the rabbi.  “If you promise me that you will be the person who yells out when you see the marriage is in danger.”

I promised him I would, and I rose to leave.

“By the way,” he called to me as I hesitated in his doorway, “did anyone ever tell you that Joanna is a good Hebrew name?”

Sixteen years have passed since the rabbi married David and me on a rainy October morning.  And, yes, I have called out several times when I sensed we were in danger.  I would tell the rabbi how well his analogy has served me, but I cannot.  He died two years after our wedding.  But I will always be grateful for the priceless gift he gave me: the wisdom to know that all of our experiences in life make us not less valuable, but more valuable, not less able to love, but more able to love.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007


To Achieve Your Dream, Remember Your ABC’s

* Avoid negative sources, people, places, things and habits.
* Believe in yourself.
* Consider things from every angle.
* Don't give up and don't give in.
* Enjoy life today, yesterday is gone, tomorrow may never come.
* Family and friends are hidden treasures, seek them and enjoy their riches.
* Give more than you planned to.
* Hang on to your dreams.
* Ignore those who try to discourage you.
* Just do it.
* Keep trying no matter how hard it seems, it will get easier.
* Love yourself first and most.
* Make it happen.
* Never lie, cheat or steal, always strike a fair deal.
* Open your eyes and see things as they really are.
* Practice makes perfect.
* Quitters never win and winners never quit.
* Read, study and learn about everything important in your life.
* Stop procrastinating.
* Take control of your own destiny.
* Understand yourself in order to better understand others.
* Visualize it.
* Want it more than anything.
* Xcellerate your efforts.
* You are unique of all God’s creations, nothing can replace YOU.
* Zero in on your target and go for it!!
-unknown author-

Thursday, September 20, 2007



If you can look at the sunset and smile, then you still have
If you can find beauty in the colors of a small flower, then
you still have hope.
If you can find pleasure in the movement of a butterfly, then
you still have hope.
If the smile of a child can still warm your heart, then you still
have hope.
If you can see the good in other people, then you still have
If the rain breaking on a roof top can still lull you to sleep,
then you still have hope.
If the sight of a rainbow still makes you stop and stare in
wonder, then you still have hope.
If the soft fur of a favored pet still feels pleasant under your
fingertips, then you still have hope.
If you meet new people with a trace of excitement and
optimism, then you still have hope.
If you give people the benefit of a doubt, then you still have
If you still offer your hand in friendship to others that have
touched your life, then you still have hope.
If receiving an unexpected card or letter still brings a pleasant
surprise, then you still have hope.
If the suffering of others still fills you with pain and
frustration, then you still have hope.
If you refuse to let a friendship die, or accept that it must end,
then you still have hope.
If you look forward to a time or place of quiet and reflection,
then you still have hope.
If you still buy the ornaments, put up the Christmas tree or
cook the turkey, then you still have hope.
If you still watch love stories or want the endings to be happy,
then you still have hope.
If you can look to the past and smile, then you still have hope.
If, when faced with the bad, when told everything is futile, you
can still look up and end the conversation with the phrase...
"yeah....BUT.." then you still have hope.

Hope is such a marvelous thing. It bends, it twists, it
sometimes hides, but rarely does it break. It sustains us when
nothing else can. It gives us reason to continue and courage to
move ahead, when we tell ourselves we'd rather give in.

Hope puts a smile on our face when the heart cannot manage.

Hope puts our feet on the path when our eyes cannot see it.

Hope moves us to act when our souls are confused of the direction.

Hope is a wonderful thing, something to be cherished and nurtured,
and something that will refresh us in return. And it can be found in
each of us, and it can bring light into the darkest of places.


Wednesday, August 15, 2007



Perhaps you have never heard of Katherine Lawes. Katherine was the
wife of Lewis Lawes, warden at Sing Sing Prison from 1920-1941.

Sing Sing had the reputation of destroying wardens. The average
warden's tenure before Lewis Lawes was two years. "The easiest way to
get out of Sing Sing," he once quipped, "is to go in as warden." In
his 21 years he instituted numerous reforms - and an important part of
his success was due to his wife Katherine.

Katherine took seriously the idea that the prisoners are human beings,
worthy of attention and respect. She regularly visited inside the
walls of Sing Sing. She encouraged the prisoners, ran errands for them
and spent time listening to them. Most importantly, she cared about
them. And as a result, they cared deeply about her.

Then one night in October of 1937, news was "telegraphed" between the
prison cells that Katherine was killed in an accident. The prisoners
petitioned the warden to allow them to attend her funeral bier. He
granted their strange request and a few days later the south gate of
Sing Sing swung slowly open. Hundreds of men - felons, lifers,
murderers, thieves - men convicted of almost every crime conceivable,
marched slowly from the prison gate to the bier, reassembled at the
house and returned to their cells. There were so many that they
proceeded unguarded. But not one tried to escape. If he had, the
others may have killed him on the spot, so devoted were they to
Katherine Lawes, the woman who daily walked into Hell to show the men
a piece of Heaven.

Katherine's strength was to see the men less as prisoners and more as
individuals. Thomas Moore has said, "We can only treat badly those
things or people whose souls we disregard."

To treat people well is to honor their souls. To honor their souls is
to understand what it means to love your neighbor.

Monday, August 13, 2007


When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood.  I remember well the polished old case fastened to the wall.  The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box.  I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother used to talk to it.

Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person -- her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know.  "Information Please" could supply anybody's number and the correct time.

My first personal experience with this genie-in-the-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor.  Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer.

The pain was terrible, but there didn't seem to be any reason in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy.   I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway.

The telephone!

Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing.  Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear.  "Information Please," I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. 


"I hurt my finger. . .," I wailed into the phone.  The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience. 

"Isn't your mother home?" came the question. 

"Nobody's home but me," I blubbered. 

"Are you bleeding?"

"No," I replied.  "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts." 

"Can you open your icebox?" she asked.  I said I could.  "Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.

After that, I called "Information Please" foreverything.  I asked her for help with my geography and she told me where Philadelphia was.  She helped me with my math.  She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before would eat fruits and nuts. Then, there was the time Petty, our pet canary died.  I called "Information Please" and told her the sad story.  She listened, then said the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child.  But I was UN-consoled.  I asked her, "Why is it that birds should
sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"

She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, "Paul, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in."  Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone.  "Information Please."

"Information," said the now familiar voice.

"How do you spell 'fix'?"  I asked.

All this took place in a small town in the Pacific northwest.  When I was 9 years old, we moved across the country to Boston.  I missed my friend very much.   "Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home, and somehow never thought of trying the tall, shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall.

As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me.  Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then.  I appreciated now how patient,
understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle.  I had about half an hour or so between planes.  I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now.  Then without thinking what I
was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information, Please."

Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well, "Information."

I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell 'fix'?"

There was a long pause.  Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."

I laughed.  "So it's really still you," I said.  "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time."

"I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your calls meant to me.  I never had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls."

I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.

"Please do," she said.  "Just ask for Sally."

Three months later I was back in Seattle.  A different voice answered, "Information."  I asked for Sally.

"Are you a friend?" she said.

"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, she said.  Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick.    She died five weeks ago."  Before I could hang up she said, "Wait a minute.  Did you say your name was Paul?"


"Well, Sally left a message for you.  She wrote it down in case you called.  Let me read it to you."  The note said, "Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in.  He'll know what I mean."

I thanked her and hung up.  I knew what Sally meant.

Never underestimate the impression you may make on others.

~ Author Unknown ~

Sunday, May 13, 2007


By the time the Lord made mothers, he was into his sixth day of working overtime.
An Angel appeared and said "Why are you spending so much time on this one"?
And the Lord answered and said, "Have you seen the spec sheet on her? She has to be completely washable, but not plastic, have 200 movable parts, all replaceable, run on black coffee and leftovers, have a lap that can hold three children at one time and that disappears when she stands up, have a kiss that can cure anything from a scraped knee to a broken heart, and have six pairs of hands."
The Angel was astounded at the requirements for this one. "Six pairs of hands! No Way!", said the Angel.
The Lord replied, "Oh, it's not the hands that are the problem. It's the three pairs of eyes that mothers must have!"
"And that's just on the standard model?" the Angel asked.
The Lord nodded in agreement, "Yep, one pair of eyes are to see through the closed door as she asks her children what they are doing even though she already knows. Another pair in the back of her head, are to see what she needs to know even though no one thinks she can. And the third pair are here in the front of her head. They are for looking at an errant child and saying that she understands and loves him or her without even saying a single word."
The Angel tried to stop the Lord. "This is too much work for one day. Wait until tomorrow to finish."
"But I can't!" The Lord protested, "I am so close to finishing this creation that is so close to my own heart. She already heals herself when she's sick AND can feed a family of six on a pound of hamburger and can get a nine year old to stand in the shower. "
The Angel moved closer and touched the woman, "But you have made her so soft, Lord."
"She is soft," the Lord agreed, "but I have also made her tough. You have no idea what she can endure or accomplish."
"Will she be able to think?", asked the Angel.
The Lord replied, "Not only will she be able to think, she will be able to reason, and negotiate."
The Angel then noticed something and reached out and touched the woman's cheek. "Oops, it looks like you have a leak with this model. I told you that you were trying to put too much into this one."
"That's not a leak." The Lord objected. "That's a tear!"
"What's the tear for?" the Angel asked.
The Lord said, "The tear is her way of expressing her joy, her sorrow, her disappointment, her pain, her loneliness, her grief, and her pride."
The Angel was impressed. "You are a genius, Lord. You thought of everything; for mothers are truly amazing!"
~by Erma Bombeck~
Best Friend

She is the best friend that I have; she's always there for me.
She is the perfect model of what, all good friends should be.

She always has a listening ear, and never any judgment.
Then always when I need it most, she has a compliment.

When my life is filled with doubt, she helps me look beyond.
The problems that I have today, and helps until they're gone.

There were a few times in the past, I felt I had betrayed.
Our one on one relationship, with choices I had made.

I know sometimes I hurt her, but she never let it known.
Her understanding gentle heart, is why our friendship's grown.

Unselfish in her attitude, unselfish with her time.
Unselfish in her love for me, this special friend of mine.

Many friends have come and gone, but this one always stays.
I guess she's learned to overcome, my temperamental ways.

She always makes me feel secure, when she is by my side.
I know whatever bothers me, in her I can confide.

I love the time we spend together, strengthening our bond.
Oh, by the way, this friend of mine happens to be my MOM.
Long Days

The buzzing of the clock awakes her and she rubs her eyes,
Morning always comes too soon when waken by surprise.
Trying to sort out her thoughts while sitting in the dark,
Whispering to herself a nasty bitter rude remark.

She had slept so soundly and did not want to awake,
How much longer could she do this? How much could she take?
She thought " I really have no choice" another day's begun
Another day when she would spend the whole day on the run.

She slowly gets up to her feet to see if they still work,
And feels a little pinch of pain that makes her body jerk.
She shuffles to the kitchen to the waiting coffee pot,
She needs her cup of coffee and today she needs a lot.

Mondays always seem to be the worst day of the week,
And today the sky is cloudy and it looks so bleak.
Passing by the mirror in the foyer where it hung,
She looks at it and makes a face and then sticks out her tongue.

Opening up the door for cream, she frowns there as she hunches,
Looking in the fridge, she had forgot to make the lunchs.
The kids will have to buy their lunch she just can't do it now,
But yesterday she had no cash so now she wonders how?

Before she makes her rounds today as she delivers them,
She'll have to stop off at the bank and use the ATM.
As long as she's not late for work and kids are all on time,
Everything should come off smooth and all will end up fine.

So with her coffee cup in hand she's off to start the race,
The first stop is the vanity where she puts on her face.
Then with that in place she slowly starts to fix her hair,
But as she does she notices her youngest standing there.

She always tries to finish and get dressed before they wake,
But on this day they're up already "oh for heaven's sake"
Go get dressed she says and tell the others make it quick,
You have to all eat breakfast, I don't want you getting sick.

So gathered at the table all are dressed and out of bed,
And she is clearing dishes as the troups are finally fed.
Now get your books and get your coats and do not make me wait,
I have to be to work on time and you cannot be late.

So to the ATM she goes and then delivery,
Dropping off each one of them to where they have to be.
Then she gets to work on time without a failing heart,
And someone has the nerve to say "let's give this day a start"

She smiles as she thinks to herself and maybe rightly so,
I have some news for you my friend I started hours ago.
A woman in the work place may appear as all the others,
And many may not know the long day of the working mothers.

As the work day closes out and going home is near.
For today the work is done at least the work that's here.
But the work is never finished for a working mother,
She just leaves one job behind while going to another.

Finished with her daytime job, the homework's now the rule,
And this is not the kind of homework that you had inschool.
Child care, cleaning, cooking, washing, shopping, all with love,
Never drawing any salary for the jobs above.

And when the day is ended and her jobs are all complete,
She may even find the time to now get off her feet.
Then when she sits and thinks of it she has this little grin,
If all goes well tomorrow she can do it all again.

So I for one salute you for your steadfast loyality,
The dedication to your job and to your family,
No matter if it's out of need or what your paycheck covers,
No one has a longer day than all the working mothers.
Beloved Mother

The tears were rolling down her cheeks as she stood there alone,
As she read "a beloved Mother" etched across the stone.
Ten months had passed since it was placed upon this piece of sod,
And also words etched on the stone said "she is now with God."

This Mother's Day will come and go and she won't celebrate,
So many things she would have said but now it is too late.
She should have told her Mother many things before she died,
But she had been too busy and she had not even tried.

She should have told her Mother when she thinks back through the years,
How she loved her childhood and how Mom dispelled the fears,
Of the childhood demons that when growing up appear.
How Mom was always there for her with every passing year.

She should have told her Mother she knew that she wasn't mean,
When that one time she had rebelled when she was just a teen.
She made it through her teenage years as children always do,
And now she knows and whisper's softly "Mom because of you."

As a young adult her Mother helped her find her way,
Encouragement and guidance with the words that she would say.
Never did she fault her when mistakes would come along,
She always said "just learn from them and see that they were wrong."

Another tear rolls down her cheek and drips without a choice,
If only she had one more chance to hear her Mother's voice.
To tell her that she loved her and the things she didn't say,
She should have said so many things before she went away.

She thinks about the Mother's Days gone by with just a token,
Token gifts were not enough now that her heart is broken.
She should have spent the entire day devoted to her Mother,
And laughed and reminisced the past and shared with one another.

But she had done her duty as so many others do,
Stopped to give a token gift before the day was through.
Rushing through her busy day and running out of hours,
Never taking time as said "to stop and smell the flowers."

Now she smells the flowers that she placed upon the ground,
But now she smells them all alone and does not hear a sound.
She whispers softly to her Mother hoping that she hears,
And says I love you mommy as she wipes away more tears.

I love you for the years you gave to love and nurture me,
I love you for the sacrifice you gave unselfishly.
I love you and I realize how much you loved me too,
I only wish this Mother's Day I could have spent with you.

If only I had one more chance but now it is too late,
On every Mother's Day I know I wouldn't hesitate,
To show you if for just one day a love that is sincere,
And also reinforce that love on each day of the year.

I know that many others race through life as I have done,
And never take the time to stop and thank that special one.
My only prayer today for those with mothers in their prime,
On this Mother's Day please let her know while there's still time.

A day will come when you will wish you had just one more day,
To tell her things you wanted too but never got to say.
So as for token gifts and such that you may get for her,
I know a hug and "I love you" is what she would prefer.

Don't let this life go racing by, and slow down if you must,
Worldly things don't mean a thing they only rot and rust.
Stop and smell the flowers and forget all of the strive,
And hug and tell that special woman "Thank you Mom for life."

Thursday, May 10, 2007



Jeremy was born with a twisted body and a slow mind. At the age of 12 he was still in second grade,  seemingly unable to learn.  His teacher, Doris Miller, often became exasperated with him. He would squirm in his seat, drool,  and make grunting noises. At other times, he spoke clearly and distinctly, as if a spot of light had penetrated the darkness of  his brain. Most of the time, however, Jeremy  just irritated his teacher.
One day she called his parents and asked them to come in for a consultation. As the Forresters entered  the empty classroom, Doris said to them, "Jeremy really belongs  in a special school.  It isn't fair to him to be with younger  children who don't have learning problems.  Why, there is a five  year gap between his age and that of the other students."

Mrs. Forrester cried softly into a tissue, while her husband spoke.  "Miss Miller," he said, "there is no school of that kind nearby.  It would be a terrible shock for Jeremy if we  had to take him out of this school.  We know he really likes it here." Doris sat for a long time after they had left, staring at the snow outside the window.  Its coldness seemed to seep into her soul.  She wanted to sympathize with the Forresters.  After all, their only child had a terminal illness.  But it wasn't fair to keep him in her class.  She had 18 other youngsters to teach, and Jeremy was a distraction.  Furthermore, he would never learn to read and write.  Why waste any more time trying?

As she pondered the situation, guilt washed over her.   Here I am complaining when my problems are nothing compared to that poor family, she thought.  Lord, please help me to be more patient with Jeremy.  From that day on, she tried hard to ignore Jeremy's noises and his blank stares.  Then one day, he limped to her desk, dragging his bad leg behind him.

"I love you, Miss Miller," he exclaimed, loud enough for the whole class to hear. The other students snickered, Doris' face turned red.  She stammered, "Wh-why that's very nice, Jeremy.  N-now please, take your seat."

Spring came, and the children talked excitedly about the coming of Easter.   Doris told them the story of Jesus, and then to emphasize the idea of new life springing forth, she gave each  of the children a large plastic egg.  "Now," she said to them "I want you to take this home and bring it back tomorrow with  something inside that shows new life.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Miller," the children responded enthusiastically--all except for Jeremy. He listened intently; his eyes never left her face.   He did not even make his  usual noises. Had he understood what she said about Jesus'  death and resurrection?   Did he understand the assignment?  Perhaps she should call his parents and explain the project to  them.

That evening, Doris' kitchen sink stopped up.  She called the landlord and waited an hour for him to come  by and unclog it.After that, she still had to shop for  groceries, iron a blouse, and prepare a vocabulary test for the  next day.  She completely forgot about  phoning Jeremy's parents.

The next morning, 19 children came to school, laughing and talking as they placed their eggs in the  large wicker basket on Miss Miller's desk.  After they completed their math lesson, it was time to open the eggs.  In the first egg, Doris found a flower.  "Oh yes, a flower is certainly a sign  of new life," she said.  "When plants peek through the ground, we know that spring is here."  A small girl in the first row waved her arm.  "That's my egg, Miss Miller," she called out.
The next egg contained a plastic butterfly, which looked very real. Doris held it up. "We all know that a caterpillar changes and grows  into a beautiful butterfly. Yes, that's new life, too." Little  Judy smiled proudly and said, "Miss Miller, that one is mine."  Next, Doris found a rock with moss on it. She explained that moss, too, showed life. Billy spoke up from the back of the  classroom, "My daddy helped me," he beamed.

Then Doris opened the fourth egg.  She gasped.  The egg was empty.  Surely it must be Jeremy's she thought, and of course, he did not understand her instructions. If only she had not forgotten to phone his parents.Because she did not want to embarrass him, she quietly set the egg aside and reached for another. Suddenly,  Jeremy spoke up. "Miss Miller, aren't you going to talk about my  egg?"  Flustered, Doris replied, "But Jeremy, your egg is empty."  He looked into her eyes and said softly, "Yes, but Jesus' tomb  was empty, too."

Time stopped.  When she could speak again, Doris asked him, "Do you know why the tomb was  empty?" "Oh, yes," Jeremy said, "Jesus was killed and put in there.  Then His Father raised Him up."

The recess bell rang.  While the children excitedly ran out to the school yard, Doris cried.  The cold inside her melted completely away.
Three months later, Jeremy died.  Those who paid their respects at the mortuary were surprised to see 19 eggs on top of his casket, all of them empty.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Wednesday, March 7, 2007


A drunk man in an Oldsmobile

They said had run the light

That caused the six-car pileup

On 109 that night.

When broken bodies lay about

"And blood was everywhere,"

"The sirens screamed out eulogies,"

For death was in the air.

"A mother, trapped inside her car,"

Was heard above the noise;

Her plaintive plea near split the air:

"Oh, God, please spare my boys!"

She fought to loose her pinned hands;

"She struggled to get free,"

But mangled metal held her fast

In grim captivity.

Her frightened eyes then focused

"On where the back seat once had been,"

But all she saw was broken glass and

Two children's seats crushed in.

Her twins were nowhere to be seen;

"She did not hear them cry, "

"And then she prayed they'd been thrown free, "

"Oh, God, don't let them die! "

Then firemen came and cut her loose, "

"But when they searched the back, "

"They found therein no little boys, "

But the seat belts were intact.

They thought the woman had gone mad

"And was traveling alone, "

"But when they turned to question her, "

They discovered she was gone.

Policemen saw her running wild

And screaming above the noise

"In beseeching supplication, "

Please help me find my boys!

They're four years old and wear blue shirts;

"Their jeans are blue to match.""

"One cop spoke up, ""They're in my car, "

And they don't have a scratch.

They said their daddy put them there

"And gave them each a cone, "

Then told them both to wait for Mom

To come and take them home.

"I've searched the area high and low, "

But I can't find their dad.

"He must have fled the scene, "

"I guess, and that is very bad."

"The mother hugged the twins and said, "

"While wiping at a tear, "

"He could not flee the scene, you see, "

"For he's been dead a year."

"The cop just looked confused and asked, "

"Now, how can that be true? "

"The boys said, ""Mommy, Daddy came "

"And left a kiss for you."" "

He told us not to worry

"And that you would be all right, "

And then he put us in this car with

"The pretty, flashing light. "

"We wanted him to stay with us, "

"Because we miss him so, "

"But Mommy, he just hugged us tight "

And said he had to go.

He said someday we'd understand

"And told us not to fuss, "

"And he said to tell you, Mommy, "

"He's watching over us."

The mother knew without a doubt

"That what they spoke was true, "

"For she recalled their dad's last words, " " I will watch over you."

The firemen's notes could not explain

"The twisted, mangled car, "

And how the three of them escaped

Without a single scar..

"But on the cop's report was scribed, "

"In print so very fine, "

An angel walked the beat tonight on Highway 109.

Friday, February 16, 2007


"Beauty of a Woman"

The beauty of a woman
Is not in the clothes she wears,
The figure that she carries,
Or the way she combs her hair.
The beauty of a woman
must be seen from in her eyes,
Because that is the doorway
to her heart,
the place where love resides.
The beauty of a woman
is not in a facial mole,
But true beauty in a woman
Is reflected in her soul.
It is the caring that
she lovingly gives,
The passion that she shows,
And the beauty of a woman.
With passing years-
only grows!

Tuesday, January 2, 2007


Don't undermine your worth by comparing yourself with others.
It is because we are different that each of us is special.
Don't set your goals by what other people deem important.

Only you know what is best for you.
Don't take for granted the things closest to your heart.
Cling to them as you would your life, for without them life is

Don't let your life slip through your fingers by living in the past or
for the future.
By living your life one day at a time, you live all the days of your

Don't give up when you still have something to give.
Nothing is really over until the moment you stop trying.

Don't be afraid to admit that you are less than perfect.
It is this fragile thread that binds us to each other.

Don't be afraid to encounter risks.
It is by taking chances that we learn how to be brave.

Don't shut love out of your life by saying it's impossible to find.
The quickest way to receive love is to give love.

The fastest way to lose love is to hold it too tightly;
and the best way to keep love is to give it wings.

Don't dismiss your dreams.
To be without dreams is to be without hope;
to be without hope is to be without purpose.

Don't run through life so fast that you forget not only where you've
been, but also where you're going.
Life is not a race, but a journey to be savored each step of the way